by Jada Ryker
Marisa felt as if her entire world tilted madly, sliding everything out of its familiar pattern. Fleetingly, she wondered if she’d fallen asleep at her desk, and this was some sort of twisted dream. She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued.
“If it works out, I will take you with me on my rise to the top. I think we’re more alike than you will admit, Marisa. There’s more to you than the conservative suits and school marm hairstyle. You have an untamed side to your personality, one you generally keep hidden.” Reed’s eyes seemed to gleam with secret knowledge.
With a stab of fear, Marisa wondered if Payton had seen her at the strip club the previous night.
“There’s a hidden side to you, a darker side, a hungry predatory prism, the part of you constantly pushing the envelope to get what you want.” Reed leaned across the desk, his eyes on her face. “I think you cross the line sometimes, but you don’t violate your code of honor. And it’s a code you’ve developed for yourself, not one based on society and its rules. Marisa, that unique code of honor and that refusal to give up are what puts you closer to me than you want to admit. I believe we’re compatible on many levels.” His hand squeezed hers once, gently. “Just think about it.”
By the time she found her voice, he was gone.
* * * * *
The morning sun filtering through Jonah’s blinds glinted on Russell’s thick lenses. His face was set in mule obstinate lines as he firmly tugged on the laptop. “Give me that computer.”
Marisa bared her teeth as she tried to pull the computer from Russell’s hands. “It was my idea to search Jonah’s apartment!” She dug her heels in the deep carpet of the cozy living room and unexpectedly pushed the computer toward him.
Surprised, he staggered backward, hitting the backs of his legs on the buttery soft sectional couch taking up two walls, and falling into the beige leather. Pulled forward and off balance, Marisa toppled next to him. Although his breath was knocked out of him in a masculine whoosh, he managed to retain his hold on the lap top.
Marisa growled in frustration. “Russell! I could have called the police when I found you here in Jonah’s apartment, obviously right after you’d broken and entered! But no, I thought it would be a better idea for us to work together!” In an attempt to catch him off guard, she tried to twist the computer away from him. They both tumbled off the couch, with Russell on the bottom and Marisa on top, both gripping the slender computer. Straddling Russell with her hands still desperately gripping the computer, Marisa twisted her head sharply toward the sound of the door opening.
“You two really should get a room.” At the open door of the condo, a tall, older woman leaned against the door frame. “Really, such a blatant demonstration of sexual chemistry is so embarrassing. I don’t know where to look.” She slid inside and closed the door.
Marisa opened her mouth to speak, but only managed a wheezing squeak. She cleared her throat. “Who are you and what are you doing here? The door was locked. You’re breaking and entering.”
With lithe grace, the woman glided forward a step, and cocked her head. Her face was smooth and tight, and the skin around her mouth was rigid, as if she’d had a face lift. Her ash blonde hair framed her face in neatly curving wings. Her blue eyes were cool and expressionless. With her height, her pure white tailored jacket and long, slim skirt, and her bone heels, she looked like a model who’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine geared toward the older set.
“You’re calm and reasonable in a tight spot. I’m impressed. However,” she reached into the small, bone purse, “this trumps any amount of reason.” She pulled out a small handgun, and trained it directly on them.
Marisa gasped.
Russell pushed Marisa off him. Regaining possession of the computer, he stood up. “What do you want?”
Marisa scrambled to her feet.
Russell firmly placed his body between her and the armed stranger.
She smiled, revealing perfectly even, smooth white teeth. The hand holding the gun was rock steady. “I want the same as you, I imagine. We are all here together, conspiring in breaking, entering, and searching a dead man’s apartment.”
Marisa stared at the gun. The bone inlay on the gun perfectly matched the woman’s purse and shoes. She had to clear her throat. “I am Marisa Adair. I was a friend of Jonah’s…”
“I know who you are, Ms. Adair. I also know Jonah finally got you alone in your little broom closet office and he told you what he was so desperate for you to hear. What did he say? I know Jonah dealt in information.” She waved her gun around the room. “He was obviously good at what he did. Not only was he evidently a confident young man not afraid of pastels—peach walls and cream and lilac curtains at the window—but he also managed to pay for this expensive condo, a sports car, and all of his toys. He not only sold information, but also accepted money from his ‘clients’ to keep quiet.
“What if he was blackmailing you, Ms. Adair? You lived a double life for years, yet you managed to keep your … colorful activities a secret. What would happen if your secrets became public? Your friend, Mrs. Althea Flaxton, is a wealthy woman. You didn’t want to take a chance on the conservative, former schoolteacher finding out the depths of your previous depravity and turning away from you in disgust. Why, she could be so shocked and appalled, she would have changed her will, thereby disinheriting you.”
Marisa was afraid of the gun, but she was also getting pissed off. “For one thing, you bony, half-starved bitch, Althea is a retired teacher and she is definitely not wealthy—”
Russell poked her.
“Ouch! Would you keep your hands to yourself?”
“Would you keep your mouth shut? Do you want to set her off?”
With her free hand, the intruder wearily rubbed her forehead with her long, pink tipped fingers. “Jesus. You two are giving me a headache. I may shoot you just to get some peace and quiet.”
Russell smiled winningly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re listening. Really.”
“Now where was I? Oh, your second motive for murdering Jonah.”
Marisa started to speak, but Russell’s shoe coming down on her foot changed her outraged comment to a squeal of pain.
“What would happen to your career if your secret life came out of the dark and into the light of day? Would your employer understand your propensity for carousing in various honky tonks?
“Happily for your ass, which was in a sling, you keep a loaded gun in your desk drawer. Of course, the gun is there for self-defense in case of workplace violence, but hey, you’re smart, resourceful, and flexible. You eased open the drawer, and stealthily hid the gun by your side in the folds of your skirt. You pretended to hear a noise outside the door. You got up, ostensibly to check for the source of the noise. You were behind him. Jonah had no idea he was in danger; he simply sat in his chair, patiently waiting for his fate. He had no reason for fear. You lifted the gun, cocked it, and you shot him in the back of the head.”
“Stop it!” Her fists clenched, Marisa took a step forward.
The woman’s body tightened, like a predatory cat preparing to lunge at her prey. “Don’t move. Jonah fell forward on your desk. You wiped off the gun; if anyone found it, you didn’t want your fresh prints on it. No one would think to check your hands or your skirt for evidence of a fired gun. You called for assistance. You made sure you were seen kneeling next to him, as if to help him. The receptionist told the police he didn’t see anyone enter or leave your office. That’s because no one did. You killed him to save yourself, your reputation, and your inheritance.”
Rage hit Marisa, not hot, not boiling, but cold and deadly. “You’re insane. Jonah’s occupation wasn’t Sunday school clean. He lived life as he chose, and it wasn’t my place to judge him. I’ve learned over the years life is rarely black and white; rather, it’s shades and degrees and variations of every color of the rainbow. I loved Jonah, for his love of life, his willingness to accept the good and bad in his friends, and his l
oving care of his grandmother. I would never have hurt him.”
The woman smiled. “I’d already reached that conclusion.” The gun moved to cover Russell. “And you must be Russell Meeks, the bumbling and diffident nursing home payroll coordinator, with baggy pants and eyes hidden by absurdly thick glasses. For a wimp, you certainly moved quickly to make yourself into a human shield for a woman you just met.”
Marisa shoved him to the side. “I can take my own bullet, thank you very much!” As she realized what she’d said, she paled.
“As an employee of the nursing home which housed Jonah’s grandmother, you had plenty of opportunity to connect with Jonah. And you also happened to be on the scene when Marisa found Zoe’s body, and you called in the anonymous report to the police. Perhaps you were the killer, returning to the scene of the crime.”
Marisa was getting tired of the stranger’s histrionics. “If you’re convinced we’re killers, why don’t you call the authorities?”
“I haven’t called anyone because I think you’re both maddening yet also innocent. Innocent and it is possible you don’t know what you know.”
“What?” Marisa was mystified.
The blonde head nodded. “Jonah was killed in your office and you found Zoe Walker’s body in the cemetery.”
Marisa turned on Russell. “I can’t believe you blabbed about that!”
Esther laughed. “He didn’t give you away, you just did that yourself. At any rate, your involvement with two murders in one day is quite a coincidence.” She reached behind her with an easy, feline grace, and clicked the deadbolt. “I have a theory. As shown by the statements of the receptionist, Brandon Proctor, and the auditor, Brad Jacobs, Jonah was so desperate to see you his hair was sticking up all over his head. Oh, wait, his hair always stuck up.” She smiled to herself. “What did he say, Ms. Adair?”
Marisa spread out her hands. “He died before he could say anything.”
Several moments passed. The cool blue gaze rested on the computer. “I bet the laptop’s files are password protected.” The sunlight from the window turned her hair to a golden glow. She motioned with the gun, and the pure silver caught the sun. “Take it into the kitchen and put it on the table.”
The armed woman watched Russell pass her in a wide arc and disappear into the kitchen. She motioned with the gun. “Follow him.”
As Marisa passed near the woman and her gaze fell full on the smooth face, something clicked in her brain. “You look like an older Zoe Walker without her extreme Goth make-up!”
As she brought the gun down to her side, the woman smiled without humor. “I wondered how long it would take you. I am Zoe’s grandmother, Esther.”
“I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Walker.” Carefully, Marisa touched the older woman’s arm.
Although her eyes were shiny with tears, Esther gave an abrupt nod. “Thank you. It’s not Walker, it’s Pendleton. Please call me Esther.” She motioned to the kitchen. “Before your boyfriend decides to do something heroic—” She raised her voice. “—I know you’ve grabbed a knife from the counter, young man, and I still have my gun—I suggest we call a truce and pool our resources.”
When Marisa entered the kitchen in front of Esther, she stopped short. “Russell! Put that knife back where you found it! Mrs…Esther is our ally, not our enemy!”
As Esther placed the gun in her bone purse and snapped the gold clasp, Russell grudgingly placed the knife on the counter.
Marisa popped open the computer. “How are we going to access his files?” Marisa remembered Brandon’s manipulation of Brad Jacob’s online profile. “I do know someone who is very good at getting into…restricted…areas.”
Esther smiled and seated herself in front of it. Her fingers flew across the keys. “No need to call your friend. One of my many skills is getting around computer security. I am setting up a code breaking program and putting an automated routine in place to try combinations of passwords. Ah, there we go. It appears his password was bootycall, no spaces. No wonder we broke it in no time.” Her fingers clicked on the keys.
Marisa peered over her shoulder. “What about his web browser history? Maybe knowing websites he visited would help us.”
Esther clicked on it. “Not much here. He may have taken the precaution of deleting the history periodically. Looks like Jonah was a tad paranoid, in spite of his simple password. What is here is definitely an eclectic hodgepodge. He checked out the release date of the latest version of a particularly bloody video game.”
Russell laughed. “And look, some pornography involving older women and garter belts. And how shocking, they all have long brown hair.” His eyes rested meaningfully on Marisa’s head.
“Bite me, Ledger Boy!”
Esther gave an exasperated sigh. “Children! Let me see. Ah, here is an interesting file. It’s password protected. Just a moment and I’ll break it.” Esther’s slim, pink-tipped fingers flew over the keys. “I’m in!”
“What was the password?” Russell asked innocently.
Esther’s cool blue eyes slid to Marisa’s flushed face. “Never you mind, young man. Now, be quiet and let me read this.” She leaned back and swiveled the computer so the others could see the screen. “Wow, old newspaper articles related to the embezzlement of church funds. Here’s one on an absconding preacher from thirty years ago. They stopped hunting for him when a crashed car and a burned body were found.”
Marisa stood up. “That stuff happened before Jonah was born.”
Russell joined her at the counter. “He must have had some reason for researching it and putting a password on the file.” He touched the clutter of papers on the counter. “What’s this?” He opened a glossy flyer. “The Church of the Eternal Devotion?” He looked up. “Is that what Jonah was getting at?”
Esther stood up. “I’m not sure. I do know a bit about the leader of the Spectacle of Eternal Devotion Church.”
“The what?” interrupted Marisa.
“Have you ever been in the church? It seats more people than Rupp Arena. Anyway, Zoe had mentioned to me that the megalomaniac, I mean head of the church, was trying to convert her. I think he thought if he could save the hard drinking, hard living, stripping Zoe, it would be the perfect advertisement for his church.”
“The church is pretty conservative. I have a friend who was going to the singles group. She was told not to come back until her divorce was final.”
Russell quirked a brow. “Friend???”
That man was really getting under her skin. Marisa turned to the older woman.
“Esther. You are not just a bereaved grandmother.” She used her fingers to tick off her points. “You carry a gun in your purse. You obviously have access to police reports. You search condos. You seem to be an information technology expert. I think you would have shot us both if you’d been convinced we were your granddaughter’s killers. Who are you really? A renegade police officer?”
Esther smiled. “You’re a smart woman. My mother was a Dickless Tracy.”
“What’s a Dickless Tracy?” Russell and Marisa asked.
“Dick Tracy was a comic book character who solved mysteries. Decades ago, J. Edgar Hoover established an experimental program. He used women as agents. He called them Dickless Tracys. My mom was one of them. Instead of fairy tales as bedtime stories, she shared her exploits as a female government agent.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “That’s it. I just wondered if I could use some of the information she passed on to me as a child, along with my other talents, to try and figure out who would hurt Zoe.”
“Considering the times, using women as agents was a radical concept. After growing up on tales of your mother’s exploits, you’re looking into your granddaughter’s death.” Marisa was positive there was more to Esther’s story, especially since she couldn’t have learned hacking skills from her mother. Regardless… “Maybe we should continue to pool our resources. The next thing I want to do is talk to Zoe’s mother. Can you give me her phone number and
address?”
Esther snorted. “If you insist. But my daughter Renee never saw what was under her very nose. I doubt she can help you with any investigations.”
Marisa was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Esther’s smooth face closed. “It was over and done with years ago. I took care of it.”
Staring into the icy depths of Esther’s eyes, Marisa shivered.
CHAPTER NINE
As Flora May walked nervously across the hospital parking lot, she pulled distractedly at her flowered silk dress. As she wound her way past parked cars, she stared down critically at her bouncing, generous curves. She was wearing her Sunday best. And her shoes were only five years old, and her pantyhose were brand new. She blushed, thinking of Henry noticing her pantyhose.
Stop being ridiculous, Flora May ordered herself as she strode into the airy, sunlit hospital lobby. She marched up to the reception desk.
Ahead of her, a beautifully dressed woman of indeterminate years hovered at the desk. Her perfectly tailored sage skirt hung ruler straight, and her matching sage jacket followed the line of her squared shoulders and flared with her hips. “Henry Worthington, please.”
The receptionist smiled at her, then checked the computer screen in front of him. “Mr. Worthington is in room 312.”
Oops. She didn’t know Henry’s last name. The woman ahead of her had said, “Henry Worthington.” How many Henrys could there be in one hospital? The woman moved away, and Flora May moseyed up to the desk.
The nice-looking young man with the gold nametag emblazoned “Brandon” smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I’m with her.” She twitched her head in the direction of Green Suit.
The other woman turned inquiringly.
Damn. Flora May gave herself a mental forehead smack. She’d intended to pitch her voice in a discreet murmur. Either she’d miscalculated, or the other woman had highly sensitive ears.
Green Suit graciously smiled as she pressed the button for the elevator. “You’re a friend of Henry’s? I am Millicent Rockingham Crayton.” Her eyes swept Flora May’s flowered dress from the Sears sale rack, then widened in well-bred amazement. Her face cleared. “Oh, you must be one of Henry’s projects.”